


Tell Me What It's Like To Burn

by cleopatras



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - High School, Catholic School, Dark Academia, Emotional Hurt, Heavy Angst, Internalized Homophobia, Like it literally starts with the death of a character, M/M, Maybe mentions of underage sex, Minor Character Death, Murder Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sad Ending, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Underage Smoking, but not graphic depictions of it, it's about the yearning, sorry y'all, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29273481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleopatras/pseuds/cleopatras
Summary: St. Michael’s Preparatory School is a prestigious and exclusive private school and following the untimely of one of their best students -- there’s an opening in their junior class. Filling this opening is George, a quiet teenager from Brighton with his own secrets to hide. He is solitary, not really making any friends at the school until Dream finds him and takes him under his wing. The two form an unlikely friendship, bonding over literature and academics, and eventually, the unlikely trio decides to dig into the death of their classmate -- uncovering more about their school than they should.Updates every Sunday & Wednesday!
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 82
Kudos: 250





	1. Edward Periwinkle

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not send this work to any CCs mentioned!
> 
> This work will contain the adult themes tagged and any additional warnings will be added in the notes prior to the chapter.

The day Edward Periwinkle died was a bright one. It seems morbid, for the sun to shine on such a dreadful day, but there was not a single cloud in the sky the day Periwinkle’s roommate awoke to find his dear friend missing from bed. The sun rose over the horizon, peeking over the rolling hills just as his body was discovered at the bottom of the stairs leading into the grand hall of St. Michael's Preparatory School. After that, three days were spent in mourning, but the August sun did not let up as they buried him. Four days after Edward Periwinkle was found, Wilbur Soot had a new roommate. 

“Apparently he’s British, maybe Wilbur’ll like having one of his kind with him,” Nick, or as his best friend referred to him, Sapnap, whispered in Dream’s ear the day they returned to classes. The wide windows were tinted with age, sun beaming through the frosted glass turning the classroom into a light bronze. It was too early for it to be this bright, but as they inched further away from the Summer Solstice, the days would grow shorter and the sun would rise even earlier. The days would soon grow colder, but for now, the sun was warm on his cloth-covered skin. 

“Not every British person is gonna get along with each other,” Dream responded with a small smile teasing the corners of his mouth. One hand tapped the edge of his pencil against his resting hand, wood lightly tapping skin over and over as they waited for class to start. Junior year had just started and it had already been thwarted by the reaper, but everyone was antsy to get back to class -- too uncomfortable to revel in the subject of grief for too long. No one at their age was equipped to mourn Eddie, but not many people even wanted to. However, Dream was terribly sad that Eddie was dead because now  _ he _ was top of their class and that was not a target he wanted on his back. 

Sapnap scoffed at this, leaning back in his chair with a nonchalance that matched the lazy grin on his face, “Have you seen him yet? I haven’t. I caught Wilbur in the hallway, though, he said he’s all right. Real quiet type, ya know?” 

“I do know,” the blond teased, a slightly mocking tone lacing his statement, one he knows Sapnap will not take to heart. “I’m sure we’ll meet him in time, it’s not as if our class is exactly bursting at the seams with students. Bound to run into ‘im eventually.” 

“I hope he’s cool, we need more cool people around,” the boy sighed, looking around at the half-asleep boys surrounding them. Most were still struggling to keep their eyes open; still adjusting to being back in school. Dream could say the same for himself, but he snuck a mug of black coffee from the teacher’s lounge this morning like he does every morning. He’s probably gotten caught a handful of times, but with his reputation and his charming smile, he’s always let off easy. “Quit bein’ a bummer, you’ve been weird ever since they found Eddie.”

“Yeah, no shit, brother, because I’m fuckin’ next in line,” Dream shook his head, his eyes skirting around the room as if anyone would care to listen in on their conversation, “I was second only to Eddie, now he’s dead. I’ve got one foot in the grave just for being smart.”

Of course, now that he’s voiced his suspicions, Sapnap’s expression is bewildered, looking at his best friend as if he had said something completely out of the realm of possibilities, “Don’t bug, it was an accident. He was out of bed past curfew, you know it’s dark as shit past curfew, you’re out there all the time. He tripped and fell. No one’s out to get you, Dream.”

“I’m just on edge, can you blame me?” Dream sighed, a heavy breath passing through his lips as their teacher finally entered the room with a slam of the door, waking up half the class. Because of this, Sapnap thankfully doesn’t get a chance to respond. 

Their teacher is one of Dream’s favorites, Mrs. Mooney. She teaches English for all the grades after 9th and he’s thankful for it. His teacher from before was an old croan who was impossible to understand, but Mrs. Mooney was refreshing. Despite St. Michael’s being a painfully Catholic school, she bore no such cross nor did she force the boys to. She had a Pink Floyd poster up behind her desk, so Dream always thought she was cool. Maybe he was easy to impress, but she had a kind smile and always wrote ‘great job!’ on his essays. 

“Hey, guys,” she began softly, a sad smile on her face, “There’s no easy way to get back into class, so let’s just get goin,’ okay? I’m here if you guys need anything. I know I’m a weird person to turn to, but… it might help. Anyway, let’s just get started, anyone do the summer reading? Honest answers, I won’t crucify you.”

A few hands shot up, Dream’s being one of them. Of course, he did the summer reading, he’d never let himself miss an assignment even if it killed him. Mrs. Mooney smiled when she saw his hand, nodding at him as she counted off everyone who claimed to have read. 

“Good, more than half of you, more than I expected. Unless there are liars in or midst, but I’m sure y’all know lyin’s a sin, right, boys?”

It’s a sour attempt at a joke that falls on deaf ears. Dream offered a half-smile, but the “really?” look he got from Sapnap was enough to make him drop it. He shrugged, remaining silent with the rest of the class.

As usual, Mrs. Mooney was not bothered by the silence of her class, instead, she chuckled and said, “All right, boys, let’s get started then. First, I feel I owe it to you because I know the higher-ups have been… quiet. So, any questions about the weekends… events?” She gulped before the word as if there was some better way to describe the death of a boy raised by this very school. Eddie was the cream of the crop at St. Michael’s, raised here, groomed to go to an Ivy League. Now he was six feet under. It’s not something they’re meant to move past, but the administration expects them to. 

A hand is raised. “Is it true what they’re saying?”

“A lot of words passing around these days, you’ll have to be more specific,” Mrs. Mooney let out a chuckle, trying to seem relaxed, but her white-knuckled grip on the edge of her desk gave away her discomfort. 

“That he was pushed?” Murmurs fly around the classroom the moment these words leave his classmate’s mouth. Dream shoots a knowing look over to Sapnap as if to say,  _ see? I’m not the only one, _ but it’s brushed off with a shrug and eye-roll from the darker-haired boy. Dream scoffed at this, his pencil tapping his desk anxiously as the students whispered. 

“Boys, boys, quiet,” the woman called sternly, her lips becoming a thin line as she scans the room. It’s rare they see her get agitated, but these are different days. She sighed before continuing, “I don’t want you guys to worry about something as… as, well, crazy as that. What happened to Eddie is a… a horrible accident and it brings me to tears just thinking about it, but don’t go telling anybody that he was pushed, that’s dreadful. Now, if there aren’t any more questions that don’t have to do with conspiracy theories, then let’s begin your lesson. Pull out  _ Gatsby.  _ Page one —”

The door slammed open, interrupting the teacher as a boy entered the room. He has dark hair and pale skin and Dream almost does a double-take. This boy looks almost like Eddie Periwinkle had crawled out of the grave just to make his way back to class. However, this boy had no rotting flesh, no blunt force head trauma, no dirt under his fingernails. He was alive and breathing. In tandem with Dream, he also looked like he had seen a ghost. 

“Is this… Mrs. Mooney’s class? Sorry, no one really showed me around, I-I just moved here,” the boy spoke with a thick British accent, eyes darting around the classroom like a mouse looking for a hole in the wall to crawl through. 

“You’re in the right place, we were just getting started. Don’t worry about being late, I got lost just about every day the first six months I worked here,” Mrs. Mooney answered in that comforting way she always spoke to the boys. She always talked as if she recognized the fact that these boys only saw their own mothers about three months out of the year if they were lucky, so she tried to fill in. She reminded Dream of his own mother — all warm smiles and golden hair. Maybe that was why she was his favorite teacher. “Go ahead and take a seat, looks like there’s one over next to Karl. Karl, wave for our new student here. George, was it?”

The boy nodded, walking over to where a brunet boy was waving his hand with a casual grin on his face. Karl would be a good person for the quiet boy to sit next to — he could bring anyone out of their shell. Hesitantly, Dream’s eyes followed the boy to his seat. There was nothing interesting about him. He was as plain as half the boys here; he would blend in just fine. However, when he looked up, probably because he could feel someone staring at him, his eyes met Dream’s. He gulped. The same dark brown of Edward Periwinkle’s. 

He forced himself to look away at this realization, his eyes drifting over to the window. The sun was higher now than it was before, but there was a dark shadow in the courtyard. A boy stood on the grass — dark hair, pale skin, rotting flesh. Blood dripped down the boy’s pale face, it showed in his teeth when he smiled. The same brown eyes. The boy — the shadow, raised two fingers towards Dream, a thumb pointing towards the sun. Slowly, his thumb bent to meet the sides of his two fingers. He blinked, long and hard, and when his eyes opened once more, the sun shone on an empty courtyard. Edward Periwinkle was six feet under. The sun kept shining. 


	2. It's George

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream is being haunted.

Dream did not let his mind dwell on Edward Periwinkle again. However, he didn’t let himself forget it either. Still, there really was nothing too out of the ordinary. Sure, he saw an apparition — he was grieving, it was normal. Perfectly normal. Dream consulted the psychology textbooks in the library just to be sure. Sapnap found him just as he was on the third one, checking and checking. The library was stuffy, bookshelves creating a dark maze of tables and books, making it almost impossible to find someone if their intention was to not be disturbed. However, Sapnap knew his best friend well enough to know he always drifted towards a certain corner. He slammed his book bag on the table to get his friend’s attention and Dream looked up from the book he was scanning with an irritated look.

“Can I help you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow as Sapnap fell into the seat next to him. When his friend doesn’t respond, he adds, “Don’t make me ask again, please, I’m busy.”

“Dude, chill with all this grief stuff,” Sapnap snatched the book away from him, “Like, the more you obsess over it the more you’ll… obsess over… it, I don’t know where I was going with that, but you dig. Just come grab dinner with me, they’re closing the dining hall soon and I know you’ll complain later if you don’t eat.” 

He groaned, but let himself be dragged from the library, shoving the psychology book back on the shelf, even though it was probably the wrong place, half of the library was out of order anyway. Dream really wasn’t sure if anyone attended the library anyway — the only person he ever saw in there was the old lady at the front desk, but she certainly wasn’t reaching the tops of any bookshelves. Sapnap pulled him past said old lady, the woman smiled at the two boys as they passed. Dream offered her a grin in return before he was yanked into the hallway. 

“You are so rude,” is all Dream said once they’re out of the library. He tucks his hands into his pockets while they walk, nodding at the few boys they pass. “I’m not obsessing, I’m just… processing.”

“Earlier you literally said you thought he was murdered.”

“I never said that!” he exclaimed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “All I said was that Eddie was top of the class, now he’s dead. He was set to go to Yale.  _ Yale.  _ Now, six feet under. You can’t say that’s not suspicious.”

Sapnap rolled his eyes, his grip reminding tight on Dream’s upper arm as if he were afraid the boy would run away at a moment’s notice, “I can and I will because it’s not. Someone died, someone we knew and yes, it’s sad, but it wasn’t like Eddie was public enemy number one, he just… didn’t have many friends.”

“He was an asshole,” Dream reminded him because, well, Eddie  _ was. _ He always had to be the smartest in the room and he always had to make sure everybody knew it. Eddie would talk down to his own damn teachers, it was no secret he had no friends because he was too busy fighting to be better than everyone else. Eddie hated Dream, he knew this. Everything Eddie spent his life working for, Dream just had it. He waltzed into any room Eddie had to bite and scrape his way into. He didn’t  _ try _ to do that, he just… did; Eddie despised him for it. Still, Dream never stopped him from being number one and he never tried to. Now, it seems that’s exactly what he had done. Not that he  _ had  _ done it. He hadn’t meant for this to happen, ever. Eddie was a school rival, he didn’t deserve to die for it. 

“And you aren’t. If someone killed him, it was because he was a dick, not because he was top of our class,” his friend did his best to reassure him, but something about Eddie’s death still rubbed him the wrong way. Still, there was nothing he could do about it now. Maybe Eddie would haunt him, but that was a problem for later. 

“I saw him,” Dream whispered once they entered the mostly empty dining hall. There were a few stragglers, but it was for the most part just underclassmen. “In class.”

“Yeah, everyone did,” Sapnap scoffed and the blond froze for a minute, his eyes widening. “New kid looks just like him. Creepy as shit, yeah, but nothing for you to be freaking out about.”

The boy sighed at this, grabbing as much dinner as he could stomach before sitting down at the table meant for the 11th graders. There was only one other student from their grade sitting far down at the other end of the table, but of course it had to be the very student they were discussing. Dream looked at him for a brief moment, but the moment the boy’s head began to turn, he tore his eyes away before he could be caught.  _ George, _ he thought to himself. He tried not to think of Eddie when he looked at him, but it was hard not to. They had the same eyes and the same straight, dark hair falling in them. If not for the accent and for George’s distinctly different nose, it would be impossible to distinguish the two. Well, and the fact that one of them was dead. 

“I mean I  _ saw _ him, Sapnap. Standing on the courtyard, blood still fresh as a daisy. He… pointed at me. No, more than that, he pretended to shoot me, what kind of fucked up shit is that?” Dream explained, glad to have finally gotten the words out even though Sapnap was looking at him like a mad man. Speaking it out loud did nothing to stop the weight on his chest, but at least he told someone.

“Dream…” He hated the way his friend was looking at him. It was worse than thinking he was crazy, it was pity. “I don’t know, but that’s weird. Just go… pray or something, I dunno, that’s what they’ve been telling us to do all week. I’m sure Jesus has all the answers or something.”

“That is  _ not _ helpful, Sap,” he groaned, shoveling food into his mouth because throughout all of his research he had gotten pretty hungry. “God, that stupid new kid looking just like him isn’t helpful. Does he even talk? I don’t think he’s said shit since Mooney’s. I didn’t even see him talking to Karl and —”

“And Karl talks to  _ everyone,” _ Sapnap finished the sentence as their lines of sight drifted over to where George was picking at his dinner, a book in his hand. Squinting, Dream could see it was  _ The Great Gatsby, _ their summer reading assignment. He must not have known about it since he only got into the school four days ago. All because a kid died.

It must be strange not to grow up at St. Michael’s. Dream had been going here since he was a kid, shipped off every fall so his parents didn’t have to deal with all the problems he had come with. He couldn’t blame them, even he knew he could be a handful sometimes. Most of the kids here had grown up at the school; Dream couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be such an outsider. Some part of him felt bad for George, another part hated him for everything he represented. He was just another reminder that one of their own was dead. 

“What are you staring at?” a voice interrupted them and for a moment, Dream thought George was the one calling them out, but he turned around to see one of the younger boys, Tommy, leaning over his shoulder. “Oh, I see, the  _ new kid.  _ He seems like a bit of a drag if you ask me, but I can’t be too harsh now that we finally got one more of my own ‘ver here. I’m gonna go tell him he’s got a fan club in the form of you two gits, though.”

Dream groaned, grabbing the teenager’s arm before he could step even one foot closer to George, “Don’t you fucking dare. We’re just lookin’ at him, nothing weird about that.”

“Yeah, like, how can you not?” Sapnap added, rolling his eyes at Tommy. That was pretty much anyone’s reaction to the kid’s loud nature, but they were used to it by now. They didn’t run into him too often because he was a couple of grades below them, but when they did, he made sure to let them know. 

“Oh, boohoo, he looks like dear Eddie, we  _ know, _ that’s what every white guy with dark hair in Britain looks like, don’t bug about it,” Tommy shrugged, sitting down at the table next to them even though both of them were looking at him with affectionate disdain. Dream never had any siblings, but if Tommy was what a little brother was like, he wondered if he was better off. “If Wilbur straightened ‘is hair, he’d probably look like that, too. You Americans worry too much.”

Dream just shook his head, shoving Tommy by the shoulder, “You’re literally here nine months out of the year, you’re just as American as we are, asshole.”

“Whatever, shitty country,” Tommy grumbled, “Vermont’s practically Canada  _ anyway.” _

“Not how it works,” was all Sapnap muttered under his breath, “Go bug Toby, you’re being a spaz.”

“He doesn’t  _ like _ when you guys call him that, pricks, why do I even bother?” the blond rolled his eyes at the two of them, but it seemed to do the job considering it made him get up from the table and wander back towards the dormitories. 

Once Tommy was gone, Dream looked back over at the student they had just been talking about. He wasn’t surprised to see George staring right back at him. For a moment, all he saw was Eddie and it sent a chill down his spine. He blinks. It’s George again. It’s George.


	3. Friday Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw // smoking

“Oi, Clay, here’s the Marls’ you asked me for,” Dream was brought to attention by the voice of Wilbur speaking closely to him, bumping him with his shoulder as he walked by, shoving something in Dream’s blazer pocket. He nodded, grabbing cash out of his other pocket and handing it over to Wilbur. It was an exchange they were used to since Wilbur was the only one with connections to the nearby town thanks to his brother; he was pretty much the only plug they had for such a thing. Considering most, if not all of the upperclassmen used him to get cigarettes, he was probably rolling in cash. “We’re playing rummy in my dorm tonight, can I count you in?”

“Why can’t we just play poker like normal people?” Dream scoffed, falling in step alongside the boy.

Wilbur laughed at this, a loud, welcoming sound, “Please, you’re just pissy ‘cause you’re ass at rummy. Tell Nick he can come, too.”

He shook his head, but knew he would be accepting the invitation anyway, so he caved and said, “All right, all right, see you there. Your new roomie gonna be there?”

“Probably, I dunno,” he shrugged, “Kinda does his own thing. I think he’s said all of two words to me, but seems nice enough. If he’s there, I doubt he’ll play. Doesn’t seem like the type. Why do you ask?”

Dream has no answer for him — he really doesn’t know why he asked, he just  _ did. _ In his defense, they really don’t get new students all that often, they usually only come in the form of the new first years, but no one is ever curious about the new five-year-olds all the way across campus that they never even see. To get a new student their age is so much more mysterious, especially when he’s as quiet as he is. Dream has always been a curious person; it’s only natural. 

“Uh,” he realized his mistake in his hesitation, but continued nonetheless, “I don’t know, he’s just… it’s been a weird week.”

“Yeah, how do you think I feel? I’m the one who  _ found _ the bloke,” Wilbur rolled his eyes, trying to seem casual, but Dream could see the way his smile faltered. He hadn’t been friends with Eddie despite being roommates with him, but Dream couldn’t imagine being the one to have to find him regardless of his relationship with him. “Uh, sorry, um, I’ve gotta get to class, see you tonight?”

He nodded, “Yeah, yeah, thanks for the cigs.” 

Wilbur didn’t say anything else before he left, just patting Dream on the shoulder with a tight-lipped smile. Dream couldn’t blame him — ever since Eddie was found, people were just waiting for Wilbur to crack. Finding a dead body isn’t exactly something someone is meant to move on from. Still, Dream isn’t one to try and emotionally support anybody he isn’t close to already and he and Wilbur could hardly call themselves friends. Still, Dream likes card games so he already knows he and Sapnap will be on their way to Wilbur’s dorm an hour before curfew and won’t be leaving until well after. It’s every Friday night — card games and gambling with what little personal items they have: Cigarettes, spare change, the occasional baseball card. It was one of the only things they had that passed for entertainment besides reading. So, Wilbur’s dorm was where he would be.

True to his word, Dream tugged Sapnap down the hallway towards Wilbur’s room around nine in the evening, an hour before curfew. They never checked the upperclassmen rooms unless there was noise coming from them, so at ten, everyone would shut up for five minutes until they heard the footsteps pass and then they were in the clear all night. However, it was best to arrive before curfew so it didn’t seem out of the ordinary for them to still be visiting their classmates. Once they arrived, he leaned on the dark oak doorway as Sapnap knocked, waiting for the door to open. When it did, Wilbur greeted them with a cheeky grin and a bottle of Jacks in his hand.

“Gentlemen, glad to see you,” Wilbur exclaimed, widening the door to let them in. There were already a few students there — Karl, Alex, and Luke were frequenters of these nights so they were to be expected. They were seated on the floor, cards already in their hands as they leaned up against Wilbur’s bed. 

Surprisingly, George  _ was _ present, he just seemingly wasn’t participating in the card games judging by how he was lying in bed with a book in his hands. Dream didn’t realize how short he was until he saw him laying out, one leg bent in an upside-down “v” while the other calf rested on the knee. Dream wondered what they would look like standing next to each other, given he had his growth spurt early freshman year and towered over most of his classmates. Still, it was almost a comforting thing to realize. Eddie was tall, he had always been tall. 

“Can we crack open a window?” Dream asked, a cigarette already between his lips. Wilbur nodded and he went to sit on the ledge, passing one to Sapnap who pulled out a lighter. Taking a long drag, he leaned his head against the edge of the window, blowing his smoke out in the direction of the landscape outside. The cool air felt good on his face, but so did the smoke in his lungs. He watched as the first game started, not bothering to buy in just yet. He would play later, it was always fun to watch Karl go all in and then lose it all to Alex who always robbed them blind. They always tried to figure out how he kept winning, but the dark-haired boy never spilled his secrets. 

It was rare for Dream to see his friends in such a casual way. Most of them, including Dream, had ditched their blazers the moment they stepped into the dorm — he had ditched his tie and left his two top buttons undone, a move that would surely set their administrators on fire, but he didn’t care. It was the weekend, most of them hardly got a chance to let loose during the school week and these nights were the cracks in the dam that Saturday morning would spill through. 

“Can I bum one?” a voice interrupted the boisterous laughter in the room and Dream turned his head to find the person responsible. George had looked up from his book and was nodding to the pack of cigarettes. 

It was the first time George had spoken to him and the first time he had heard the boy speak since that first day in Mrs. Mooney’s class. Dream was almost taken aback by it, if not for his shock being cut off by a flame of curses leaving Wilbur’s mouth at Alex’s next play. He snapped back to reality and shook another cigarette out.

“Yeah, here,” Dream handed it over before taking the lighter out of Sapnap’s palm. He expected George to grab the lighter and do it himself, but instead, he placed the cigarette and leaned forward. Without question, the blond lit it for him before pocketing the lighter. He watched with careful eyes as the boy took a decently-sized drag, his pale fingers holding the puff with ease before blowing the smoke through his pale lips. So, he had smoked before. Not surprising for a schoolboy of their age, but it wasn’t something Dream expected. 

“Thanks,” he spoke before returning to his book as if the conversation had never happened. Dream leaned back on the windowsill, running a hand through his hair as he took another drag. For some reason, his eyes kept drawing back to George, laying casually on his bed, cigarette propped in his mouth like it belonged there. He was prettier than Eddie, which was saying something because he had been quite the looker. Still, Dream would keep that thought to himself. 

“Clay, Nick, you guys playing?” Wilbur’s voice sliced through his thoughts, catching his attention as he nodded at them from the floor. 

Brought back to reality, Dream stubs out the half-finished cigarette on the window ledge, “Yeah, yeah, deal me in. Alex, if you kick my ass again, I’m doin’ you in, for real.”

“Oh, what are you gonna do, big man?” Alex asked with a teasing tone, crooked smile piercing through his tan skin, “You couldn’t hurt a fly.”

Dream scoffed, “I could step on you and wipe you off like dirt, don’t get too comfortable, bugger.”

“We get it, you’re  _ tall,” _ Sapnap added with a mocking grin, leaning up against Wilbur’s bed while very obviously trying to get a look at Karl and Alex’s cards, but both boys caught on easily. Karl shoved him away and all of them burst into laughter. Friday nights, no matter what, are always easy for Dream. He can let his guard down; he trusted these people. The only outlier was George, but he wasn’t bothering them. However, that didn’t mean Dream didn’t notice the nervous glances over to the boy’s relaxed form. Without even knowing it, George was creating a dark spot in the room, because his presence was a reminder of what they had lost. 

“Hey, George,” the blond boy called over, nodding towards the game, “Wanna play? I’ll cover your buy-in if you want.”

“I wasn’t aware I was invited,” is all George said in response, closing his book slowly. Dream is aware of everyone else in the room watching his actions, but he doesn’t care about them right now. He couldn’t imagine feeling so alienated in your own room.

So, he scoffed and said, “You live here, dipshit, come play. I mean, it’s chill with everyone else, right?” Scattered nods confirmed this statement. 

George still looked skeptical, but nonetheless stood up from the bed and took the only open spot left, which happened to be next to the very boy that invited him. He pulled a few crumpled dollar bills out of his pocket, “I don’t understand your stupid American money, should this be enough?”

“Toss it in, my friend,” Wilbur nodded towards the pile in the middle of them, handing him a stack of seven cards facing down. George spread them out in his hand, looking them over with a quiet concentration. 

When he noticed everyone’s eyes on him, he looked around at them and asked, “What the hell are we waiting for? Scared I’m gonna beat all of you?”

It was the closest thing to a joke Dream’s heard from him, so it caught him by surprise. There was a beat of silence before the group burst out into a fit of laughter. George hesitated to join them for a moment, almost as if he feared they were laughing  _ at  _ him, but after a moment, he let out the most joyous laugh Dream had ever heard. From that moment on, Dream was  _ fascinated.  _


	4. Morning, Sunshine

Getting ready for mass on Sunday morning was something that was second nature to Dream. He stood facing the mirror, tying his tie with practiced ease as he looked over his own reflection. There were bags under his eyes — truth be told, he hadn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep since Eddie was found. Eddie haunted his dream every night, both memories of the two of them and the twisted image of the boy’s grinning corpse. Blood still in his teeth, dripping onto the ground beneath him every night. He shivered, mentally blaming it on the cold even though September had barely started. Across the room, Sapnap was still rolling out of bed. Out of the corner of his eye, Dream watched as the boy rubbed sleep from his eyes. 

“Morning, sunshine,” he spoke drearily, sleep still evident in his voice. Both of them hated getting up for church of all things on one of their two days off, but Dream was admittedly better at actually getting up. He supposed it helped that he hardly slept which meant there really wasn’t anything for him to wake up from. He just went from trying not to close his eyes all night to trying to keep them from slipping closed. Sapnap groaned in response, a typical interaction for them when the clock hadn’t yet hit seven. 

“I hate you,” Sapnap drawled as he forced himself onto his feet and began getting ready for the day. Religious or not, no one actually  _ liked _ getting ready this early in the morning. Sunday mass was an hour earlier than their classes started during the week and it was especially painful since most boys were too busy catching up on homework to get any proper sleep on the weekends. Still, they needed to sit and listen to the Lord’s word for an hour and a half before they could eat, so they sat and they listened. 

Dream didn’t respond to Sapnap’s quip, straightening out his uniform in the mirror. He looked down to adjust his cuffs, but when he looked back there was a face staring at him over his shoulder. He gasped, bright red contrasting with the dark oak colors of their dorm. The boy in the mirror smiled, but Dream rubbed his eyes and he was gone again. He needed to get some sleep. 

“Hurry up, you goon, we’re gonna be late,” he tried to hide the shakiness in his voice, but he knew Sapnap was too tired to pick up on it so it didn’t matter all that much. Masquerading his fear, he wraps an arm around an unsuspecting Sapnap’s neck and messes with his already disastrous hair. The boy pushed him off with ease since Dream didn’t bother to fight back, but it got his energy up which was all he was aiming for. 

“We have like fifteen minutes,” Sapnap grumbled in response, sleepily pulling on his uniform. “You’re  _ that _ excited to greet our Lord and Savior?”

He grimaced at this, climbing up on the window ledge and opening it so he could light up a cigarette. The boy scoffed at the question, “No, I just don’t wanna get my ass beat. Miss Minerva will whack us with her stupid cane if we dare step foot in that church after 7 am, Sapnap, this isn’t  _ new  _ information.”

“Yeah, I know, I got the bruises to remind me,” the boy rubbed his back as if he could feel the ghost of the old pain from the last time they were late to mass their sophomore year. “I’m going, I’m going.” 

The two boys settled into their uniforms, heading out into the hall and towards the church, surrounded by their fellow classmates who are also pissed off at having to be up at this hour. One bonus is that the upperclassmen sit in the back which means most of them will get away with nodding off, but Dream currently resents the idea of sleep. The last thing he needs is to see Eddie again. Even if he can’t fully escape him in waking, he knows it’d be worse if he slept. Students filed in, all looking dead on their feet. Out of the corner of his eye, Dream saw George walk in alongside Wilbur, the two of them having a whispered conversation with one another. They seem to be getting along well since Friday night, which Dream is absolutely going to take credit for. Still, he had yet to actually speak to George since that night. 

Once everyone is settled, the room goes dead silent as they wait for the priest to begin. Father Robert was an old, sickly man and Dream frankly had no idea how he had survived another year, but he doubted the man was going to make it to their graduation, but he didn’t care either way. He had a stern look that was obvious had persisted his entire life and every single sentence took him about five minutes to get out which meant listening to him every Sunday was just one of the many forms of torture the school employed. 

“Let us open up with a prayer,” the man croaked, the words echoing across the room as every student automatically folded their hands and bowed their heads. It was second nature by now, even if most of them tuned it out. “Lord, I pray for the student we lost this past week, we know that Edward is safe in Your hands now and You may guide him to paradise. We pray that You watch over these boys here as they study to follow Your word. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” 

From the moment Dream lifted his head, muttering that final word along with the rest of the student body, he tuned out everything the priest was saying. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. Well, it  _ was _ that he didn’t care, but there was more to it than that. All the priest wanted to talk about was death. It was all anyone wanted to talk about since it began to plague their school and Dream was sick of it. More than sick of it, he couldn’t stand it. There was no point to discussing it, Dream figured. It hung in the air of the dark halls, further permeating the atmosphere with every utterance of Edward Periwinkle’s name. He was haunting these halls whether he wanted to or not and most importantly he would not stop haunting  _ Dream.  _ So, no, he did not find himself suited to listen to a sermon preaching everything he already knew. 

The hour passed as a sickening bore and frankly, Dream was proud of himself for not completely nodding off. The service ended with yet another prayer, but Dream hardly paid attention as they began to file out of the church the same way they had come in.

“You going back to bed or gettin’ breakfast?” Sapnap asked, his arm slung around Dream’s shoulders even though they were hard for him to reach. When Dream shrugged him off, he continued, “C’mon, man, you’ve been funky all weekend, what’s gotten into you? You’re not still seein’ ghosts are you?”

_ Yes.  _ “No, quit tugging my chain, I’m just tired,” Dream lied slick through his teeth, pushing Sapnap away from him gently so he could breathe, “I’m not hungry, I just wanna go back to bed.”

“Liar, bet I’ll come back to the dorm and find ya wide awake, you just feel like being sour. Been sour ever since Eddie died.”

“Ever wondered why that was?”

“You guys weren’t exactly buddies,” Sapnap scoffed, opting to follow Dream back to the dorm instead of splitting off towards the dining hall with the majority of other students. Part of Dream just wanted to be alone, but it was so hard to turn down Sapnap. No matter how much they bit and teased at each other, they were still closer to each other than anyone else at the school. 

Dream stopped short, shoving his hands in his blazer pockets. He felt around, making sure the cigarette pack was still there, which it was. He ached to be alone with his cigarettes right now, but his friend seemed dead set on not allowing that to happen. 

“It doesn’t matter that we weren’t  _ buddies, _ ” he seethed, surprised to hear the frustration in his own voice, “He was one of us, one of our own, and now he’s dead and everyone is just moving on like… like he wasn’t  _ killed.” _

He hated the way Sapnap looked at him after the word passed his lips. “How many times do I have to tell you? He wasn’t. He snuck out after curfew all the time, it was dark, he fell, he hit his head on the way down and now he’s dead. There’s nothing… there’s nothing suspicious about that. There’s nothing we can do besides pray for him and move on. C’mon, Dream, you’re smarter than this, I know you are.” 

He knows he is, too. He shouldn’t be obsessing over this as much as he is, but that stupid image of Eddie won’t leave his mind and it’s going to drive him to the brink of insanity if he isn’t more careful. Still, he doesn’t need to take this out on Sapnap. 

“You think a boy who sneaks out after curfew just as much as I do wouldn’t know where the edge of the goddamn stairs are? Go get breakfast, I’ll be in the library if you need me.”

Walking away, he left Sapnap standing in the hallway with that stupid disappointed look on his face as students milled about, blocking each other from view. Dream has no energy to fight, but he knows he’s right. Stupid Eddie wouldn’t be haunting him if he wasn’t. He’s never believed in ghosts until he had one hanging on his shoulders for the last week. 

Instead of heading towards the library like he said he would, he goes for the courtyard. There’s something he needed to see, just to convince himself this was all in his head as he hoped it was. He found the spot that lined up with his English classroom, where he had seen Eddie for the first time. Dream stood tall in the sun, blocking the rays just as his old friend had. Looking down on the grass, he looks for any sign of that dripping crimson that haunted his brain. He squatted down, fingers brushing the deep green grass, waiting for any bumps or dried puddles. There’s nothing. Nothing but green, green grass. 

“Did you lose something?” a voice interrupted his daze, a voice with a thick accent and slow drawl. Dream looked up at the shadow covering his form to find George standing right in front of him. Slowly, the blond stood, towering over the other boy the moment he reached his full height. 

“No, no, thought I saw a nickel,” Dream lied, shoving his hands in his pockets. He liked that he looked down on George, a slow smile spreading across his face as he watched the boy crane his neck. 

George considered this, not quite looking like he believed him, “Where’s your second head?”

“You mean Nick?” Dream chuckled, “He’s eating, I wasn’t hungry.” 

The boy simply nodded at this, seemingly thinking about something as he looked over Dream. His eyes raked over his tall form and Dream felt oddly scrutinized as if something about him was amiss. Still, Dream was content to let him look at him, it wasn’t the first time someone had given him a once-over. Additionally, this gave him an opportunity to look at George. He looked less pale in the sunlight, but that wasn’t saying much. His once thought to be jet-black hair was lighter than Dream first thought. Every time he looked at George, the boy reminded him less and less of Eddie. He supposed he should be grateful for that. 

A heavy beat of silence passed between them before George looked him up and down and asked, “Wanna go smoke?” 


	5. Howl

Somehow, smoke breaks with Sapnap and George became a normal thing. A week passed and the three of them stood behind the school, trying not to get caught, sharing cigarettes. It was after dinner now, the sun setting behind the hills they stared out at. Dream hadn’t stopped seeing Eddie, but at least now he knew for sure it was all in his head. He didn’t tell his friends about what he was seeing, he didn’t want Sapnap looking at him like he was crazy anymore. The sunset highlighted George in tones of orange and pink, the cigarette smoke left his lips; stark against the warm hues of the evening. Anything was beautiful in this lighting, Dream figured, even the way George’s slender fingers pinched a cigarette. 

“So, this is really all there is to do around here? Homework, smoke, and pray every Sunday morning?” George broke the silence suddenly, his voice mocking as he leaned against the brick wall. His blazer was absent, in just his collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Dream’s eyes traced over his form, watching how George had become more relaxed over time. 

“Pretty much,” Sapnap chuckled, “Well, Dreamie here is always reading because he’s a nerd, but other than that, there isn’t much.”

“What do you read?”

Dream shrugged, pulling his own cigarette from his lips and blowing smoke into the hazy evening air, “Kerouac, Ginsberg, those types.”

“Beat poetry?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, nothing, you just seem… like an Orwell type or something, maybe Bradbury,” George muttered, his eyes focused towards the setting sun as the night grew darker ahead of them. They should probably go inside soon, no one was allowed in the courtyard after dark, but Dream could stay here all night. However, they did have a game night to attend so it was probably best for them to clear out soon anyway. 

Surprisingly, Sapnap was the one to scoff at this, saying, “Dream? Science Fiction? Please, he’s a big ole sap, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard him reciting Plath in his sleep.”

“Buzz off, c’mon, we gotta head inside, it’s getting dark,” Dream put a stop to the conversation, flinging his cigarette butt to the ground, not letting either of the boys get ahead of him as he walks off towards the entrance of the school. He shrugs his blazer back on, the once-warm evening beginning to usher in a cool breeze while the other two jog to catch up to him. “George, you playin’ tonight?”

“Maybe, I feel bad, though, it must suck for you guys to keep losing,” George teased once he and Sapnap fell into step alongside the tall boy. 

“Here for two weeks and he’s already too cocky for his own good,” Sapnap groaned, shoving the boy to the side. The three of them laughed, stumbling over themselves with giddiness as they ended up chasing each other back through the school entrance. Once they’re inside the school, Dream gives George one final push. The boy almost falls over completely if not for Dream grabbing onto his arm to keep him stable, both of them still laughing as they all settle down. His touch lingers where it’s wrapped around George’s bare forearm, warmth flooding through his fingertips. Their eyes met before he let go with a grin, pretending to dust himself off. 

“You guys are so  _ slow,” _ Sapnap called from down the hallway, stopping to stare at them with a playfully annoyed expression. “George, wanna hang out in ours before we head over to Wilbur’s? We got time!”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” the boy nodded, walking alongside Dream as they both tried to catch up to the one ahead of them. Sapnap seemed to be walking extra quickly on purpose, teasing them every time he turned around. Still, neither boy was really aching to run anymore so they fell behind. “Say, why does Sapnap call you Dream? I only ever hear people call you guys Clay and Nick.”

Dream shrugged, “They’re nicknames we gave each other when we were younger, he was my first friend here. It’s kind of like our names for each other, most people don’t know us well enough to use ‘em. You can call me Dream, though, Clay sounds funny with your accent.”

“You are so rude,” George scoffed, pushing the boy to the side, “I’m gonna say it even more now,  _ Clay, Clay  _ —”

_ “Clay! Are you even paying attention to me?” Eddie’s voice rang in Dream’s ears, pulling him out of his trance. Truth was, Dream had been busy watching the way Eddie explained things rather than actually listening. It was hard to pay attention; the way Eddie looked when he explained something he was truly passionate about was a sight to be seen. No one would believe Dream, of course, they all thought Eddie sounded pretentious. Dream thought he was magnificent.  _

“Dream?” George’s thick accent questioned, pulling him out of his own head, “You good? Kinda stopped for a second there.”

He did his best to play it off with a laugh, “Yeah, yeah, I think I just fell asleep listenin’ to you, ever tried not being boring?”

“Piss off,” the dark-haired boy chuckled, nudging Dream with his shoulder. The two of them caught up to Sapnap who was waiting for them in front of the door to their dorm room with his arms crossed.

“You guys walk so fucking slow.”

“Don’t be a wanker, let me in,” George scoffed, pushing past Sapnap to enter the room. It was strange, having George in their space. No one had ever been in their room, but here George was, standing right in the middle of it. Sapnap fell onto his own bed, kicking off his shoes for just a moment as he relaxed. Dream let himself relax as well, pulling his blazer off now that they were indoors, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top two buttons so his neck and chest weren’t as stuffy. He wondered what public school would be like; not having to dress like he’s going to a business meeting every day. How nice that must be. Looking over at the intruder, he noticed George’s eyes falling to Dream’s slender fingers on the buttons. A half-smile formed on his face, but he said nothing as he moved to sit on his own bed, crossing his legs and leaning up against the wall, patting the spot next to him. 

“Cleaner than I thought it’d be,” George muttered, sitting down next to Dream. There was a considerable amount of space between them, but he could still feel the warmth. 

“Asshole,” was his only response, reaching onto his bedside table, pulling the book he had been in the middle of and tossing it on George’s lap. “Ginsberg.  _ Howl.  _ Masterpiece. Had to smuggle it in through Wilbur’s brother ‘cause it’s banned here.”

George picked up the book, flipping through the pages, “Why’s it banned?”

“They don’t allow books written by homosexuals,” Sapnap intruded on the conversation, shuffling a deck of cards so he had something to do with his hands. “Which Ginsberg is a massive one.”

“Oh,” the dark-haired boy considered this, his tone softening as he looked over the pages, “No wonder it’s banned, that’s inappropriate, I mean, who knows what kind of shit is in here.”

“Great literature,” Dream shrugged, grabbing the book back. “That should be all that matters, not who he’s blowing or who’s blowing ‘im. Here, listen to this: _ in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night.  _ Carl Soloman doesn’t even like this poem, what a waste of beauty.” 

George went silent, his eyes focused on his own twiddling thumbs as he listened to Dream read, waiting a beat before saying, “A waste of beauty. It’s not a waste if there’s people enjoying it still, right? Surely you’re not the only bloke out here reading poetry.”

The blond smiled, looking down at the boy next to him. George raised his eyes to meet his as the taller one said, “Yeah, I guess I’m not. Here, you can borrow it. Get cultured.”

“Dream I really hope you’re aware that you’re just about as pretentious as Eddie was, you’re definitely getting there,” Sapnap spoke from across the room, a shit-eating grin on his face. The grin was wiped off by Dream taking the pillow next to him and throwing it straight at his face. 

All three of them burst into laughter as Sapnap jumped out of his bed to try and fight Dream. However, the boy was taller and stronger than the other, able to push off the hands grabbing at him. He shoved Sapnap aside, the boy stumbling and hitting the side of his bed with an exasperated smile and shake of his head.

“One of these days I’ll beat you,” Sapnap groaned, letting himself fall backwards onto the mattress, “Swear on my mama.” 

“Yeah, that’s not happening anytime soon,” Dream laughed openly, letting himself fall back on his bed, so his back was against the mattress while only his head was supported by the wall. He took this opportunity to look up at George, who was already looking at him. Dream smiled. Looking down at the book in the other boy’s hands, he said, “Trust me, read it cover to cover, you won’t regret it.”

George was quiet for a moment, eyes flickering from the book back to Dream’s gaze, whispering, “I trust you.”


	6. I Think of Him

Dream is getting sick and tired of dreaming of Eddie. Every night since it happened, he’d dream of Eddie’s laugh, the way he smiled at Dream; he’d dream of the boy’s corpse rising from the grave. Those were the ones that woke him up; seeing the arms protrude from his grave, clinging onto the dirt with such clear desperation until the dirt wedged itself under his nails that were already peeling off. He always tried to wake himself up before the boy could fully rise from the grave, anything to prevent him from seeing the glazed-over brown eyes he had once known so well. 

He shot up in a cold sweat, not for the first and no doubt not the last time for this week, panting heavily in the dead silence of his room. The moonlight shone through their curtains weakly, casting its glow on the floor and providing the only lighting. Dream knew he wouldn’t be going back to sleep. So, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulling a sweater over his pajamas before opening the door. Sneaking out after curfew was something that was second nature to Dream, the dark hallways curved like the back of his hand. 

His mind betrayed him, thoughts of Eddie protruding through his waking state. He wonders if this was what it was like the night he died. Maybe Eddie had woken up from a fitful sleep as well, no doubt having a nightmare about a poor grade or something frivolous he always stressed about. He wondered if his hand traced over the ancient oak of the walls just as Dream’s was now. 

Dream found the spot he was looking for in the darkness, sitting at the top of the very stairs Eddie had fallen down. It seemed strange to come back here, but it was the only place Dream could think to go right now. It seemed like the right thing to do, to acknowledge the boy haunting him.

“I thought I was the only one,” a voice interrupts his thoughts and at first, hearing the accent, Dream thinks it might have been George. However, a quick turn over his shoulder and he sees Wilbur approaching, hair rustled from a fitful sleep just as Dream’s probably was. “You dream of him, too?”

“I think of him,” Dream noted, a distinction in his voice. His eyes concentrate on what he can make out of the spot at the bottom of the stairs. Even through the dark wood, there’s still a deep red outline of where Eddie’s blood had pooled. “Constantly.”

“I didn’t know you two were close,” Wilbur commented, sitting down next to him. They sit shoulder to shoulder, eyes glued to the same place. “It’s all I see. Him down there. In the movies, when people call, they’re always twisted up in weird positions, bones all out of the place, but he… he looked almost as if he were sleeping.”

Dream scoffed at this, the noise echoing, “Sleeping in a pool of his own blood.” 

“Yeah,” the other boy whispered, his voice going soft. “I never understood him, you know? Lived with him for eleven years, couldn’t stand the guy. I think he was nice, once, but I think he almost forgot how.”

“He was nice to me, in his own weird way,” Dream sighed, “We would spend hours in the library, talking about our favorite poets and stuff. He liked Dickinson, Hughes. You should have heard him talk about it, he lit up in a way I had never seen him in class. His smile was… breathtaking. I could have listened to him for hours.”

Wilbur was quiet for a long moment. The air was heavy between the two of them. Both of them were being haunted in their own ways, that much was clear. Dream’s fingers fiddled with the hem of his sweater, picking at a loose thread. It was strangely comforting to have another person here with him. 

The next words spoken were careful, gentle in a way Dream didn’t understand. Quietly, as if afraid that the ghosts would hear, Wilbur asked, “You loved him, didn’t you?”

A bitter laugh echoed throughout the hall, Dream hung his head, letting blond hair fall over into his eyes. “I’m starting to think I did.” 

_ “Clay, listen, listen, I know you’re all high and mighty about Ginsberg and Kerouac or whatever, but seriously, how can you not love Dickinson? The way she writes is just… breathtaking,” Eddie droned on and on, the sunlight shining through his black hair as he waves his arms around. The two had been in the library for God knows how long, but time passed by so quickly when they were together. “What is it about Ginsberg that draws you into him so deeply? I gotta know.” _

_ Dream shrugged, only half-listening. His eyes were more focused on the slender form in front of him, the boy with his top buttons undone and sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was beautiful. “I don’t know. I think I admire him more than his writing, well, not to say I don’t admire his writing. He loved freely, well, as freely as he can. Him and his partner have been together for like twenty years you know.” _

_ “Nothing about that is love,” Eddie cooled down, his smile fading, “I don’t know how you can think of it that way. Men just… men are made for women, isn’t that what they tell us? God took the rib from Adam to create his soulmate, Eve, a woman.” _

_ “A woman who doomed all of humanity,” Dream scoffed, leaning back in his chair. He didn’t miss the way Eddie looked at him too, he was no fool. There was something in the way their gazes lingered when they met, there had to be. There had to be. _

_ “Whatever, it’s a sin, what Ginsberg does. He’s a great writer, sure, but you can’t ignore that.” _

_ The blond rolled his eyes at this, leaning over and placing his hand underneath Eddie’s jaw, efficiently shutting him up just by the touch alone. He leaned in close, whispering, “Let he who is without sin throw the first stone. Besides, we are all sinners, even God, after all, we are made in His image.” _

_ A moment passed between them in which Dream did not remove his hand and Eddie made no move to push him away. Dream would have kissed him here and now to prove his point if he were a braver man. Still, he was a coward and a coward he would stay.  _

_ He pulled back with a laugh, exclaiming, “You should have seen your face!” _

_ “You can’t go acting all queer like that, asshole,” Eddie scolded, but he was laughing too, “I swear, you really had me goin’ for a minute!”  _

_ “Oh come on now,” Dream lowered his voice, licking his lips as their eyes met across the table, “Like you wouldn’t kiss me if I asked. You can’t say you aren’t curious.” _

_ Eddie hesitated to deny this, his gaze averted as he settled on the words, “Good thing you aren’t gonna ask.” _

Dream didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt the wetness hit his sweater. He let out a choked sob, raising his head and rubbing his eyes as he balanced his elbows on his knees. He expected Wilbur to get up and leave, but instead, he placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, squeezing gently. 

“Oh, God, I just… you can’t tell anybody, Wilbur, you can’t,” Dream pleaded, his voice low and desperate. “I’ve ruined my own life enough, I don’t need anyone else doing it for me.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Wilbur’s voice was hurried as if he was stressed out by Dream’s tears. He let out a sick laugh at this, “What? Clay, what’s going on?”

Dream continued laughing, his fingers itching for a cigarette between them right now, but he had left them in his dorm. His shoulders shook as laughter faded into cries. He sobbed, Wilbur’s hand staying put on his shoulder for only a moment longer before Wilbur removed it in favor of wrapping his arm around Dream and pulling him closer. He leaned into Wilbur, letting his tears continue to fall until he couldn’t breathe any longer. 

“I see him every fucking night,” Dream choked out, “Every night he haunts me, I can’t tell anymore if it’s memories or if it’s fantasies I created in my mind. I’m fucking consumed by him, Wilbur. I’ve never loved anyone in my life, you know that? Not like that. I never, I never let myself. I always knew, I knew the moment we got back from the summer we turned thirteen and he showed up, all chubbiness gone from his cheeks and he finally learned to stop slicking back his stupid hair. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him so fucking much. Why did he have to leave, Wilbur? Why’d he have to fall?”

“He didn’t fall,” Wilbur whispered, the three words causing the other to go completely silent. He sniffled once more before quiet dread creeped up on the two of them, waiting for Wilbur to continue. “When I woke up in the middle of the night, I knew he was gone right away. I never get up to look for him because he always came back, but something just felt… wrong. So, I got up, but I don’t know these halls at night as well as he did. I was only able to find him because… because I heard him scream.” Dream sucked in a breath at the words, waiting for him to continue. “By the time I got there, he was already at the bottom. I heard someone running away, I  _ know _ I heard it. It was too dark, it was too bloody dark. If I had only gotten there sooner —”

“There was nothing you could have done,” Dream choked out, his head still leaning on Wilbur’s shoulder, “If you had gotten there sooner all it would mean is that you’d have died, too. So, he… he was pushed. Someone wanted Eddie dead.”

Wilbur nodded slowly, “Someone who is still walking these halls.” 

“I don’t care what it takes, we’re gonna figure out who the fuck did this. Eddie… Eddie deserves it.”

“I’m with you, Clay, I’m with you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as yaya would say, eddiewastaken supremacy


	7. Everywhere

“We need to tell you guys something,” Dream closes the door behind him as four boys sit in Wilbur and George’s dorm room. It felt like a secret; to gather in this sense to discuss something everyone was avoiding. No one talked about Eddie anymore, Dream realized. His word was no longer whispered in the halls, no one looked at the spot where he had been found, no one saw him standing in the courtyard. It had only been two weeks and he wasn’t even a ghost anymore. He was just gone. People die twice, he thinks. First, when they’re put in the ground. Second, when people forget. 

“Why all secretive? We sneaking out?” Sapnap asks, leaning back on his bed with his hands beneath his head without a care in the world. It was strange to see him so casual when something was weighing on Dream this heavily, but the other boy had no way of knowing just how much of Dream that Eddie had eaten alive. 

Wilbur scoffs at this, leaning up against the door with his arms crossed, “I wish, but no. We should though, I’m running out of brandy.”

“Stop drinking it then,” George hums from his spot where he leans up against Dream’s bed. A silence falls over the room, but he just rolls his eyes and motions to the two boys still standing, “Well? Get on with it then? What is this secret meeting about?”

“It’s not a secret meeting if it’s barely seven,” the boy laying down adds with a pointed look in George’s direction.

“Jesus Christ, you guys could not get to a point if I gave you a map, a compass, and a kick in the ass,” Dream groans, pacing around the room as he runs his hands through his hair, “Pay attention. I- this is serious shit.”

“Are you dying?” Sapnap questions sarcastically, raising his eyebrows at Dream whose only response is to flip him off. 

“No, but Eddie was murdered,” Wilbur finally speaks and the room falls deathly silent. The air seems to freeze, no wind pushing around the curtains through the open window and the clouds settling in the night sky. An orange hue is cast across the room, reflecting on their still, stoic faces. Nonetheless, Wilbur continues, “I saw it. Not enough of it, but I saw it. He was pushed.”

Sapnap sits pin-straight, exclaiming with a half grin that doesn’t meet his eyes, “No. You’re bullshitting. He  _ fell.  _ It was dark and, and he didn’t know where he was going and he fell. It was an accident, Wilbur, you can’t — no, you’re lying.”

“He saw someone running away,” Dream adds, his voice forced as he tries not to crack under the pressure. Instead, he focuses on the lines of his palm, racing his right palm with his left thumb, avoiding the eyes on everyone in the room. “I told you, Sap, I knew I wasn’t crazy, I knew it the moment I saw him —”

“You saw him?” George cuts him off, confusion filling his tone. The way he’s looking at Dream could burn him to a crisp, but he’s not lighting the flame, not yet. “How?”

The blond gulps, pacing around the room before taking a spot on his bed, his legs resting against the side right next to where George is sitting. He doesn’t miss when the boy puts a hand on his knee as he looks up at him. God, Dream sees so much of Eddie in those eyes. He forces himself to look away, eyes drawing to the setting sun instead.

“The day we came back to school, the day you got here. Saw ‘im in the courtyard. I see him in the mirror, over my shoulder. I see him in the corner of my eye when I’m not paying attention, he’s everywhere.  _ Everywhere. _ ”

A heavy silence hangs over them for a minute, Dream’s skin burns through his slacks where George’s hand rests. He isn’t even placing pressure on it, it’s just  _ there. _ So unmistakably there. 

“So what are we supposed to do? Catch his killer? We’re kids,” Sapnap breaks the silence not for the first time that evening, his wild eyes darting between the three of them. “This is… even if someone  _ did  _ push him, who are we to catch them? We— what could we possibly  _ do? _ We don’t even know anything.”

“The sound of their footsteps and a dark outline,” Wilbur scoffs, running a hand down his face into crossed arms, shaking his head as he paces where Dream just was. His voice is sorrowful as if he just knows it’s a lost cause, but what else could they do? Sapnap had a point, they were kids. They were four boys, sitting in a dorm room, praying every Sunday and taking the Lord’s name in vain. Who were they to play Justice? 

“We’d be so beyond in over our heads, Wil,” Sapnap chokes out. When Dream looks across the room to meet his, he sees the boy’s eyes welling up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dream swallows, “I did.”

“Why am I here?” George asks suddenly, the room’s attention drawing to him. “I didn’t know the kid, I don’t know anything that could be of help to you guys. If someone at the school killed him, the less people that know the better, so why bring me into it?”

“You’re our friend,” Dream answers with no hesitation, the words leaving his lips before he can properly think about them. They’re the truth. George had quickly become their friend before he even realized; Wilbur, too, but that had more to do with his and Dream’s conversation on the stairs. Something about a secret weighing heavy on two hearts will bring people together. “I — we wanted you to know.”

“I should go, I have homework, we just wanted you guys to know the  _ plan, _ ” Wilbur scoffs, twisting his discarded blazer in his hands so tightly it’ll be wrinkled by morning. “If we could even call it that, I just… yeah, yeah, I’m gonna go. George?”

“Yeah, give me a few,” George nods. 

Wilbur leaves and his absence weighs heavy as the three boys begin to process the reality of the discussion that just took place. Dream has always wondered what memories he’ll hold onto once he’s old. He thought they would be happy memories, maybe he’ll remember chasing George and Sapnap back to school, or he’ll remember certain moments in Wilbur’s dorm on Friday nights. As the moment settles, he realizes this is something he’ll remember for the rest of his life. Something that makes him miserable; sick to his stomach.

“I’m gonna take a smoke break, you guys coming?” Sapnap’s hands fidget as he stands, subconsciously searching for a cigarette pack. The boy didn’t let tears fall, but his eyes are rimmed red. Dream could go for a cigarette too, but he can’t bring himself to mood aside from shaking his head. He notices George reject the offer, which is a disappointment because Dream had already prepared himself for loneliness. 

“Clay,” the words hang in the emptiness of the room, gentle on George’s tongue as if he were afraid to say it. He doesn’t look at the boy beneath him and he does not look as he moves to sit beside him. “ _ Clay. _ You can’t… you can’t be serious.”

“Where are you from?” Dream asks, ignoring the other’s words completely. “I call you my friend, I don’t know a damn thing about you.”

Truth is, he craves to know more about George. He is enamored by him, just like he was the first time he saw Eddie. The thought makes him sick. 

“Clay —”

“Please stop calling me that.” It’s a whisper, his voice forced. “He always called me that and you say it… you say it just like him. Like it’s the most important word in your vocabulary like you can’t get enough of it. Now  _ please  _ answer the question.”

George is quiet for a long time while Dream stares straight ahead. He knows if he looks at George he is going to see Eddie’s face and that is a sight he can’t bear. Not right now. 

“Brighton. I’m from Brighton,” the boy finally answers. “Is that good enough for you?”

“Tell me about it.”

“It’s rainy. It’s on the coast, but the water’s always gray and cold. The houses are small, close together. It was weird when I was driving up here, seeing gaps in your neighborhoods. Everything feels so pressed together in Brighton and now…”

“Now you go to school in the middle of nowhere,” Dream scoffs, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He can’t take it anymore, the itch. He hopes Sapnap won’t kill him for making him smoke alone. His hands light the cigarette he pulled out of the pack by the teeth, not bothering to move towards the window. He takes a drag before turning slightly in a silent offer. George gets the memo, grabbing the cigarette and placing it between his own lips. “What about family? Tell me about your family.”

George sighs, handing the cigarette back over, “My mum died when I was younger. Her family was pretty wealthy and they’ve helped us out a lot, probably compensating, but it’s why I was able to go here. I went to private schools over in Brighton, too, but my father wanted me to go to a good Catholic school and he wanted me as far away from him as possible.”

“Yeah, I feel you on that one,” Dream scoffs, a sad smile forming on his face, taking a drag to make it go away. “I was too hyper for my parents, too much all the time so they made me someone else’s problem. Load of good it’s done me, I’m still the same mess I was when I was younger. I just smoke now.”

It hits Dream just how close they are now, the sides of their bodies pressed against each other as they share the cigarette. He plucks it right from George’s lips, stubbing it out on the nightstand. The boy just stares at him quizzically, but Dream gives him no verbal answer. Instead, he lets his head fall onto George’s chest, pushing them both back onto the bed. He hears George laugh as they fall, wrapping his arms around Dream in a way that he has both arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Dream laughs too, wrapping his arms around George’s torso as they sit, wrapped together for a moment. 

“You two look like a couple of queers,” Sapnap re-enters the room, laughing at the two of them with a shake of the head.

“Aw, don’t worry, Sappy, you can get in here, too, everyone needs a hug sometimes,” Dream exclaims, lifting his head just enough to stick his tongue out at the boy. When he only glares at him, he teases, “You know you want to.”

Sapnap stares at them with his arms crossed for a moment before scoffing and shaking his head, walking over to where the two boys are tangled on the bed, “Idiots. Both of you. A match made in heaven.”

“Yeah, okay, tough guy,” George laughs, letting go of Dream with one arm, opening up for Sapnap to fall on top of them. 

All three boys laugh together and for a moment, the room feels of nothing but peace.


	8. One of Us

“This is bad, this is so bad,” George is saying, his arms crossed as the four of them stand in Tommy and Tubbo’s dorm room. After all, the underclassmen are the only ones with dorms on the first floor and Tommy happens to owe Wilbur a favor. “How do you expect us to get back?”

“There’s a trellis that leads up to our window, Nick and Clay will head back to their room from there,” Wilbur answers with a shrug, one leg already out Tommy’s window as if this was something he did every day. 

Tommy gapes at this, asking, “Why the hell are you going through  _ my  _ window then? Use yours!”

“Trellises are easier to go up than down, trust me, my friend,” Wilbur laughs, hopping through the window. The sun is long gone and the doors are locked, but the boys have other plans. Plans that involve copious amounts of alcohol and not a single mention of Jesus. Things have been overly tense following the first few weeks of school and it’s time for some good old-fashioned teenage rebellion and Wilbur happened to catch wind of an underground rock concert in town, which meant they were hoofing it to the nearest pub to get absolutely pissed. Dream needed it and he knew he did. He had been thinking too much with too little time to just breathe and not have to worry about anything. Sure, their friend (by loose definition) was murdered and they had given themselves the burden of solving that riddle, but maybe if they pretend nothing was wrong then nothing would be. 

“Can we hurry up? I can hear whiskey calling my name,” Dream exclaims as he follows Wilbur through the window, reaching out a hand to help Sapnap through. The bush they land in scratches at his pant legs, but he doesn’t care. The shorter boy falls onto the ground, reaching back to help a reluctant George through the window.

Once they’re all through, Tommy leans towards them and whisper-yells, “Now piss off! If you get caught, you better not rat us out.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Wilbur calls with a mock salute before the four boys take off running through the courtyard towards the gates of the school. 

They make for an easy climb, a journey that will surely be harder on the way back, but the boys are too excited to be free to care. They’ve all been getting stir crazy with the high tensions this year and the smell of freedom even for just a night was too good to pass up. 

“What if we ran away for real one day?” Sapnap asks once they’re all over the gate, trekking down the dirt and gravel path towards town. “Like, we just leave in the middle of the night and never come back?”

“You can’t last one more year? It’s that bad?” George raises an eyebrow as he nudges the other boy, his hands shoved in his pockets. 

Dream scoffs at this, pulling his cigarette pack out of his pocket and lighting up, offering one to the three boys who all accept. “You live here most of your life, you’d think it would start to feel like home at some point. It just feels like a prison, especially these days. Everyone avoiding topics to make higher-ups mad, keeping their heads down. I’d run away tonight if I could.”

“Why can’t you?” Wilbur adds with a small smile, but there’s a hint of sincerity under his voice that Dream can recognize. 

“Got work to do,” he shrugs, blowing smoke into the night air as the lights from the town enter their lines of sight. He doesn’t need to say it for all of them to know what he’s talking about. Silence falls over them. Dream takes a breath. “But none of that tonight, let’s just get shitfaced.”

This causes Sapnap to emit a cheer that brings a smile to all of their faces, the tension leaking from their shoulders the closer they get to the pub housing the show. They could already hear music and a fire lit under their asses as they entered. Immediately, it was warm. There was mindless chatter with the band warming up in the background and instantly Dream was relaxed.

They leaned against the back wall since all of the tables were full and Wilbur and Sapnap opted to go get the drinks for the four of them, leaving just Dream and George. It was funny standing next to him like this, Dream thought. Even leaning he was noticeably taller. Part of him was tempted to rest his arm on the other boy’s head, just to be annoying. 

“How often do you guys sneak out like this?” George asked, his voice barely audible above the noise of the pub, but he was practically whispering in his ear so it wasn’t like he was impossible to hear. 

“Not often, the more you go the more chances you have to get caught,” he answered with ease, looking out at the scene before him. This place had become more like home over the years than the school had. Maybe it was silly to think like that, but it was true. 

“Says the one who sneaks out every morning to steal coffee from the teachers,” George retorted with a sly grin. “The stuff you said earlier about having work to do here, you’re really not gonna give up on the Eddie stuff? Like, you want to really try and figure out who killed him?”

Dream sighed, leaning his head against the wall with a dull thud, “I owe it to him, I guess. We were… I was the closest thing he had to a friend. Someone’s gotta do him justice.” 

“How noble,” the other muttered, but it felt almost mocking in a sense. Before Dream could say anything in response to the remark, though, the others returned with their drinks. 

He didn’t even hesitate in grabbing the beer from Sapnap’s hand, instantly taking a swig so large he had to hold back the gag. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the taste of beer, but it’s worth it for the way it makes him feel. That’s worth it to him. Beside him, George hesitantly takes his first sip of the drink, wincing right away.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never drank before,” Sapnap accused, giving George a harsh shove with his shoulder that causes him to laugh and tumble slightly into Dream. 

“I’ve had it before, this beer is just shitty,” the dark-haired boy retorted, shoving Sapnap back with little fear, not bothering to apologize for running into Dream. Instead, he just shot Dream a look mid-laugh, catching his eye and smiling as he takes another sip before turning back to Sapnap. “Maybe you three just need some standards.”

“Hey, leave me out of this, I just get whatever’s cheapest,” Wilbur contributed to the banter with a loose smile, “Now hush, the show’s starting.”

Sure enough, the lights dimmed and the haunting chords of a bassline began to fill the room in a way that wrapped wholly around Deam and enveloped him in the anticipation of the music starting. He had never heard of this band before and he probably never would again, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate it while he lasted. He turned to the boy next to him, watching as his eyes focused on the band. Eddie never snuck out with them. He would run around the corridors at night but was always too worried to actually leave campus. However, despite his reservations, George had hopped right out that window with them. His heart warmed at the idea, but he chose to blame it on the alcohol beginning to course through his veins. He took another swig just to be sure. 

He felt George place a hand on his shoulder, leaning up to whisper in his ear, “I’ve never heard music like this in my life.”

Dream laughed, leaning down to say, “Just another thing America does that much better. You’re stuck with the Beatles, meanwhile, we get whoever the fuck this is.”

The boy laughed, but it couldn’t be heard by anyone besides the four of them thanks to the music. Still, that laugh wraps around him the same way the bassline did, suffocating him in a way that he knows he’ll love. George’s laugh was nothing like Eddie’s. It’s a weird thought to have, Dream figured, but it’s true. He laughed so wholly like he just couldn’t contain himself. It was something Dream could listen to forever. 

“Thank you,” George whispered in his ear once more, his careful voice sending a chill down his spine. “For bringing me here.”

The smile that formed on Dream’s face was wide and it was real. He wrapped his arm around George’s shoulders, pulling him close in a way that didn’t have to mean anything but somehow meant everything. The closeness was something Dream felt in his bones. “You’re one of us now.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fully forgot i needed to update this anyway it's technically still sunday so it counts


	9. A Mutual Understanding

Sitting in English class with a raging hangover was not a feeling that Dream was unused to, but he never quite got good at handling the headaches and dislike of sunlight. The four of them sat in their respective desks, all dreary from the minimal sleep they got, listening to Mrs. Mooney drone on about The Great Gatsby. He supposed he’d rather go to English class than church, but he wasn’t particularly enticed by either prospect. Still, as he made eye contact with Sapnap beside him and George and Wilbur across the room, he liked the idea of the group of them having gotten away with their escapade. They almost hadn’t — getting up the trellis all halfway to pissed and in the middle of the night had dangerous odds, but they ended up doing just fine. 

“Clay,” a gentle voice warns him as neatly manicured fingertips tap his desk. He looks up through his bleary eyes to see Mrs. Mooney looking down at him. It seems during their work period he was more drifting off than paying attention to the worksheet below him. “You been sleeping okay, hun?”

He nods. It’s a lie and she’ll probably see through it considering he’s come to her class nearly passed out multiple times before, but this time he had a valid excuse for not sleeping other than being haunted by the death of a friend. The woman smiles knowingly in response, tapping his desk once more before walking off to observe other students. His mind drifts to last night rather than the assignment he’s supposed to be working on. He thinks of George and him pressed up against the back wall of that pub with Wilbur and Sapnap on either side of him. It had been warm, so warm, but they still kept close to each other. He thinks of how their shoulders had been pressed together all night. At one point he considered just slinging his arm around George’s shoulders — a casual, friendly movement — but something had held him back. Still, he thought of the boy’s pale skin and dark hair shining in the warm, dim lighting of the bar, the shadows that had danced across his face with every nod of his head.

He found his eyes drifting to the boy now, head down, with his pencil gripped tightly in his grasp as he worked on the assignment Dream was currently neglecting. He had bags under his eyes, they all did, and half of them were paler than usual from throwing up in the middle of the night — he had always known Sapnap was a lightweight, but he hadn’t expected the same of George. Thinking back to last night, he remembers helping Wilbur get a nearly passed out George in bed; how the boy had gripped his wrist and quietly whispered for him not to go. He chalked it up to the drunkenness, laughing it off with Wilbur as he left to carry Sapnap back to their own dorm. Lightly, his fingertips ghost the parts of the wrist where George had grasped. If he concentrates hard enough, he can almost see the marks. 

After class, Sapnap goes to grab lunch, bidding Dream goodbye with a, “You’re never hungry anymore, dude. Whatever, I’ll bring you something later.”

“Thanks, Sap, I’ll be in the library,” he tells him, hiking his book bag higher upon his shoulder.

“Yeah, I  _ know _ ,” Sapnap laughs, clapping him on the shoulder before heading off towards the dining hall. Dream chuckles to himself before going off in the opposite direction. 

The last thing he expects to see when he arrives at the library is someone already in his spot. He does a double-take for a moment, seeing the dark-haired boy curled up in a chair with his nose in a book, his mind almost thinks it’s Eddie, but he comes to reality quickly enough; he clears his throat and George looks up, confirming his suspicions. 

“You’re in my spot,” Dream accuses, but there’s no malice behind it instead the statement is accompanied by a teasing half-smile. George simply rolls his eyes at him, reaching over and pulling out the chair next to him. He shakes his head, but falls down into the chair regardless, stretching out his legs as much as he can in sharp contrast to George’s tucked-in form. “What’re you reading?”

“The book you gave me, it’s quite good,” the boy muses, holding up the cover for Dream to see that it is, in fact,  _ Howl.  _ “When you told me you liked poetry, I didn’t expect it to be… like this. I like it. I’m not usually a poetry person.”

“Nobody thinks they’re a poetry person until they find that one piece that gets them right here,” His hand reaches out, two fingers tapping the middle of George’s chest before withdrawing. “ _ That’s _ when you start to be a poetry person.”

George hums at this, his eyes returning to the page. However, he notices the boy’s attention drift when he sees what Dream pulls out of his bag, “What are you reading?”

“ _ Pride & Prejudice,  _ heard of it?”

“Of course, I’ve heard of  _ Pride & Prejudice,  _ dimwit.” 

“Just checking!” Dream exclaims with a small laugh, not budging when George makes a sad attempt to elbow him in the ribs. “I didn’t peg you as having any taste whatsoever.”

George scoffs, “Hungover Dream is an asshole, I’m learning.” 

“Oh, says  _ you, _ Drunk George is a clingy bitch,” he teases, dodging George’s attempt to smack him with the book. “Oh, don’t go, Dream! Dream stay with me!” 

“I did not say that, you’re making that up!” the boy laughs, still trying to smack him but to no avail. Dream manages to catch the wrist coming at him, holding it above George’s head with an arrogant grin; knowing he’s bested him. George doesn’t fight the touch, but still glares at him with a bored expression, and he wonders which one of them will break first. 

_ “Give it here!” Dream laughed, fighting to grab the book back from Eddie who is holding it high above his head. He’s shorter than Dream, but he keeps stepping back just out of reach. However, Dream gains the advantage when Eddie runs into one of the couches that lines up with the large window overlooking the courtyard. He falls back and the blond takes this as an opportunity to grab the book back, but their legs get tangled and he wound up falling on top of Eddie. _

_ The two of them laugh with each other, not bothered by the lack of space as Dream reaches out and finally takes the book back. He has his prize, but he didn’t move. There’s a silence in the way the room fills with the sounds of their heavy breathing, neither of them daring to speak when they’re wrapped so close. He watched with careful eyes as Eddie’s gaze drops down to his lips. The same thought crosses his mind, but he does not dare act on it and so it seems neither does Eddie. _

_ “You’ll never beat me,” Dream breaks the tense silence, leaning back and giving the other boy room to get up.  _

_ Eddie just laughed, “Yeah, but who’s still top of the class? Yeah, that’s what I thought.” _

_ “Asshole,” the blond shook his head, punching the boy softly in the arm. He wishes he could have kissed him instead.  _

“Dream?” George’s voice snaps him back to reality and their closeness reminds him of what he had just been thinking about, which is a dangerous line to tread and he knows it. The boy in front of him is undoubtedly George. He knows this. He can’t forget this. 

His grip is still on the boy’s wrist, although instead of holding it above his head, he’s used it to pull George closer without realizing it. The most daunting part of it all was that George had leaned into it instead of pulling away.

“George,” Dream whispers, lacking a question in his voice. His eyes linger on George’s lips the same way Eddie’s had all those months ago and he considers it; considers the consequences of it, too. “You can’t beat me.”

“Wasn’t trying to,” George returns, their gazes lifting and eyes meeting. There’s a silent understanding and Dream realizes it — they’re both thinking the exact same thing. He wonders which one will act first.

“Yo, Dream,” a voice interrupts and Sapnap rounds the corner. Before they can be walked in on, Dream lets go of George and pushes him back into his chair — already deciding with himself that they are never going to speak of this again. He can’t want George this way, not yet. “Here, I brought you lunch. I know you said you weren’t hungry, but — oh, hey George — I figured you might want some just in case.”

Dream chuckles, trying to act like whatever just happened didn’t, grabbing the sandwich from Sapnap, “Thanks dude, appreciate it.” 

“Y’all doing homework?” he asks, “I’ve been needing help on that stupid essay for Mooney.”

He tunes Sapnap out as the boy settles down at the table. A look is shared with George and there’s a mutual understanding of each other that wasn’t there before. He takes a deep breath before returning his gaze to the book he left on the table, cracking the spine and giving himself literally anything else to think about than the eyes boring into the side of his skull. He fears his rapidly beating heart will give him away, but if Sapnap notices his nerves he says nothing. 

He turns to the side, his eyes meeting George’s once more. A mutual understanding. 

**Author's Note:**

> [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/09nwnINNHsNuKpOw0WP8p9)   
>  [twitter](https://twitter.com/nicowritess)   
>  [tumblr](https://andrewjminyvrd.tumblr.com/)


End file.
